


got a lot to prove

by toomanyhometowns



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Don't copy to another site, F/F, because women's sports deserve to be as well-compensated and -publicised as men's sports, this is also an alternate universe where the CWHL still exists and is more like the NHL in profile, yes an alternate universe where there is hockey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26446936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomanyhometowns/pseuds/toomanyhometowns
Summary: thought-42 asked:Hockey AU, Carolina/479er [and then later:] Trade, for any combination of ladies in the hockey au *smiles innocently*[in which the author embraces how stupid hockey nicknames are, and pretends the CWHL never stopped existing]
Relationships: Agent Carolina/Four Seven Niner (Red vs. Blue)
Kudos: 1
Collections: tumblrfic exodus





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thought](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thought/gifts).



> Uploading tumblr fic from eons ago! Title is from Sylvan Esso's [Ferris Wheel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2eruW1KHcxc) specifically, though I guess it's a common phrase too. :) Lyrics [here](https://genius.com/Sylvan-esso-ferris-wheel-lyrics).

The bus ride down to Boston is long and familiar. Carolina doesn't have to turn around to know that Connie's curled up in the back corner trying to get some sleep, that Jujube's hissed cussing is because Chezzer and Texie are schooling her at slapjack, that Tin-Can and Souther are sharing headphones and playing yellow car with a vengeance. Souther was up by five cars when they got back from their last roadie—Carolina's pretty sure that Tin-Can's not going to let that stand.

She likes that they're all creatures of habit, though. It means that people expect her sprawl out in front, legs tangled with Niner's, head propped against the window so she can watch her work.

Watching Niner tape her sticks is almost as good as watching the magic she can work with them once she hits the ice. Her fingers are quick and sure, threading tape around fiberglass with an easy, practiced grace. The end of the stick bobs, twists in the aisle. If anyone were walking up to their part of the bus, they'd be sure to trip.

Carolina blinks, slow. This is the first part of the routine.

"So is it ‘cause you're a big Torey Krug fan?" she asks.

Niner doesn't even look up. "Torey Krug can fuck right off," she replies evenly. "I've been wearing 47 since he was a twinkle in his momma's eye."

Carolina hides a delighted smirk. Niner's so easy sometimes. "Is it Despres, then?"

This makes Niner stare at Carolina in something between disgust and confusion. "No. Also: who?"

"From the Pens," Carolina says. Niner's fingers are still at work, but slow and lingering now that her full attention isn't on them. This isn't officially part of the routine, but Carolina likes it anyway.

"Simon Despres?" Niner huffs. "Nope, definitely not."

"What about…"

"Wait, did you _look up_ a list of players with my number?" Carolina's face must give away the answer. "Aw, sweetie," Niner coos. "You big dork, you really shouldn't have."

"Yeah, well I did," Carolina says. "Gotta have something to keep me busy on these long, boring rides."

"What was that? You wanna get busy with a long ride?" Niner's baring all her teeth in a grin, and Carolina wants to taste it.

They're creatures of habit too, so she gets an elbow up against the window and levers herself forward, meets Niner's lips hard and fast. Niner switches from a grin to a bruising kiss instantly, catching Carolina's lower lip between her teeth and nipping, passing her tongue along Carolina's lips and in, in.

This is the second part of the routine.

" _Yellowcar!_ "

"Yello—, _fuck!_ "

Souther's up by one more car, and Carolina leans back against the window again, eyes tracing Niner's lips.

Under Carolina's gaze, Niner bends to rip the tape with her teeth. She smoothes the edge down and reaches into her shirt to grab the Sharpie from where she'd kept it tucked between her breastbone and her bra. She uncaps it with her teeth and starts writing on the tape she'd just finished, mindful of the bumpy highway.

This is the third part of the routine, and the one that Carolina had asked her about in her first week on the Stars.

_Does it mean anything?_

A short silence as she finished writing, then, _It's my area code from back home. It's good luck._

_Cool. Where's the 479?_ Carolina remembers leaning awkwardly against the new girl's stall, cocking her hip and trying to seem cool.

_Arkansas._

_For real? They even have hockey out there?_

The new girl had clearly heard it before, because _They do, and you'd better be grateful for it_ rolled off her lips without a second thought, and Carolina was halfway in love by the last curve of the 9.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [intro notes from the second tumblr post:] relevant... the tags about their positions, specifically that carolina’s their captain who plays offensive defense, and niner’s a winger who does fancy-ass tricks. sorry-not-sorry about the fuckload of hockey terms here, ahahaha. background knowledge that may help: [this is a toe-drag](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nUh4N4wZMG4), [these are some sexy toe-drags](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2q5S62ZRKI), and it’s part of the captain’s job to get the refs to call penalties when they see ‘em. also, hockey teams have four 3-player “lines” of forwards consisting of 2 wingers and 1 centre; if someone is in the first/second line (“top 6”), they’re generally great goal-scorers, and if someone’s in the bottom 6, they’re generally less great (but may be good at punching people, if this is the NHL). OK GO.

Carolina's hammering her stick on the ice, hollering at the top of her lungs, _"Here, here, here!!"_

Niner ignores her to do a nifty toe-drag that normally would tie a familiar knot of jealousy and lust somewhere in Carolina's stomach, but today, Carolina doesn't feel that normal, because _today_ , Niner's trying to toe-drag her way around two of the biggest fucking defensemen Carolina's ever played against.

Niner gets the puck by the first one, and nearly gets around the second, but the poke-check catches her skates and she does a heart-stopping somersault, landing awkwardly on her shoulder and skidding into the goalpost.

"Fucking—"

The whistle sounds, and Carolina's already streaking towards Niner, can hear Souther to her left starting shit with the Brampton player who'd taken her out, but she's busy, busy shouting for the call, because, _"That was a trip, if she thought she was getting the puck I'll eat my fucking socks, ref,"_ busy watching Niner clamber to her feet and shake herself off like a dog getting out of water.

They get the powerplay and Niner doesn't need help getting to the bench. ("Fuck off, Cap, go score us a goal.") She's dripping blood from her cheek and that gets them the extra three minutes' penalty.

Tex converts on the PP to put them up 3-2 (of course) and then Sister, the new girl, deflects Souther's shot off her shinpads for a second goal, and kisses Tex full on the visor when she cellys. Carolina can hear her shouting, _"Boom!"_ from the bench.

She can also hear Niner practically growling beside her.

"Stop that," Carolina says, even as she holds her glove out to give Sister a fistbump on the fly-by. "We're up by two because of a penalty you drew, you should be smiling."

"Can't smile," Niner says. "They numbed my cheek for the stitches." She bares her teeth anyways, and she still has a little crust of dried blood in her hairline.

Carolina wants to ask her if she's seeing straight, but Coach is shouting her name and she has to haul herself over the boards for her next shift. She'll check at the hotel. Just five minutes of play left, now. Then showers, then food, then—

—

"What was that out there tonight?" Carolina asks when she's got Niner alone in their room.

Niner doesn't stop doing her weird yoga to answer, voice muffled, "Us winning on a powerplay I got for us?"

"… by refusing to pass when I was wide fucking open, and then getting yourself tripped halfway to a head injury, yeah." The bed squeaks when Carolina sits on it, and her legs burn when she draws them up to sit with her feet sole-to-sole, stretching out her inner thighs.

Niner exhales herself into a V, hands and toes planted. She bounces her knees a couple times, walks her heels up and down. "I thought I could get by them."

"You thought you could impress Coach Kimball," Carolina corrects, voice snapping out more harshly than she'd meant it to. "You thought that with Kaikaina here, your spot in the top six was at risk."

There's an ominous silence as Niner steps forward, straightens up. Carolina shifts so her legs are dangling off the side of the bed, thighs still spread. She _will_ take up space, she's the fucking captain, and Niner's going to listen to her.

"I was gonna get by—" she starts, but Carolina cuts her off.

"Are you looking to get injured?" And if her voice was too harsh before, it's too soft now, and fuck, Carolina needs to be better at this. "Because a concussion's not gonna help your case any."

Niner's moving closer now, loose-limbed from stretching. "I'm not looking to get injured," she says, and Carolina thinks about her disgusting habit of licking honey out of single-serve plastic containers, of the smooth, sweet taste of it when they kiss afterwards. "I'm looking to make the difference."

"You'd've made the difference if you'd fucking sauced it to me like you did a thousand times in practice," Carolina says. "And you wouldn't have stitches holding together your face now."

She ghosts her fingers over Niner's cheek and doesn't say, _The trade deadline's a week from now,_ doesn't say, _Nobody's going to make you leave,_ doesn't say, _You belong on this team._ That's not how hockey works.

"Speaking of my face," Niner drawls, because she's never going to admit she's scared. Their team doesn't need nine wingers. Someone's making a move, gonna shift positions (maybe the third-line centre, Carolina's got some ideas there—) or, worst-case scenario, gonna shift to another team.

Niner's here, though, standing between Carolina's legs and leaning in for a kiss. Niner's Carolina's. She's safe. She's staying.

Carolina whispers most of that last bit through gentle kisses that Niner keeps trying to steer towards biting, and Niner eventually sighs. She lets Carolina pull her onto the bed and bracket her limbs and kiss her honey-sweet. Carolina leans on one arm and slips her other hand up Niner's shirt, laughs and nearly falls when Niner bites at her biceps.

She's got her. She's safe. She's staying.


End file.
